


Privileges of Babysitting for John Winchester

by gracemurphy



Series: Privileges Series [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-25 21:16:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6210397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracemurphy/pseuds/gracemurphy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John dumps his sons on one of his old hunting buddies and takes off, following a lead on the Yellow Eyed Demon. As if being left out on the hunt by their dad wasn’t bad enough for Sam and Dean, things were about to get a whole lot worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Privileges of Babysitting for John Winchester

**Author's Note:**

> I can’t actually believe I wrote something this dark. The idea just grabbed on and I couldn’t shake it free. I can imagine that there is a now special place in Hell reserved just for me. Also, this is unbeta’d. I have read over it a million times but there’s probably still some mistakes in there somewhere (feel free to notify me of any mistakes you may spot so I can fix them). If you would like to volunteer as a beta that would be awesome too! Anyway, without any further a do, enjoy.
> 
> Read on my LiveJournal

Sam slammed the car door, choosing to ignore the outraged cry that sounded from his brother behind him. Instead he continued to glare over at his father from under his bangs, arms folded in front of his chest. 

 

This wasn’t fair. He was seventeen, has been helping with hunts for years, and Dad is just going to dump him here for God know’s how long just like he is some clueless eight year old. 

 

He really didn’t care so much about being left out of the hunt itself - couldn't really care less to be honest - it was more the choice of location. There was no school and no library, nothing at all actually. Dad was going to leave him in this forgotten sweaty armpit of the Mid West, with some old hunter and only the fields and forests that stretch for miles as company.

 

“You’ll be fine, Sammy.” 

 

Sam’s glare snapped over to his brother at the sudden sound of his voice. Dean was making his way around the front of the Impala and Sam did not even try to fight the urge to roll his eyes at the sight of Dean’s hand caressing the hot metal. 

 

Dean stopped next to him and ruffled Sam’s hair as he handed over one of the heavy duffles. Sam jerked quickly out of his big brother’s reach and attempted to smooth out his hair from the assault with his free hand. His brother knew how much he hated it when he did that.

 

“I’m sure it’s not going to that bad,” Dean continued and that was the exact moment Dad’s hunter friend decided to make an appearance on the porch in front of them. The timing couldn’t have been better.

 

The man was tall, nowhere near the impressive heights of the Winchester men, but he possessed enough vertical inches to be considered above average in standard terms. The same goes for horizontal inches, considering the hairy belly poking out of his top. He had a thick, bushy beard and hard eyes. It gave him the over all impression of a not-so-jolly Santa Claus. 

 

Sam raised his eyebrows at the sight and looked back over at his brother, pleading not to be left alone. Dean just shrugged and laughed at Sam’s misery before he followed after Dad into the weathered house like the good little soldier he was. 

 

“Stupid frigging Jerk,” mumbled Sam as he solemnly followed behind his family, much like a condemned man would walk to the gallows.

 

The first thing he noted once he was inside was that the walls were way overdue for another coat of paint. At least they were mould free - thank God - unlike most of the hotels they tended to frequent. It could also do with a little more light, the curtains hanging over all of the windows made it unnecessarily dark and gloomy.

 

He didn’t even want to think about all of the dust lingering around. It coated the furniture, a series of clean circles marking out the location of cups over the coarse of who-knows how long. As if proving his point, Dean suddenly sneezed loudly from his position on the couch, looking around distastefully at the cloud he created by sitting down. 

 

Sam decided to check out the small stack of hunting books over in the corner while his father disappeared into the kitchen with Joe. It wasn’t very impressive collection, just the basic lore book here and there. There was, however, one on demonology that he hasn’t seen before. He pulled it out to inspect the front cover closer. Maybe he can read that later to keep himself occupied.

 

“See geekboy, I told you it wouldn’t be too bad,” remarked Dean, voice sounding too loud in the otherwise quiet room. “There’s enough books here to keep you going for the next year!”

 

Sam shot a glare over his shoulder at his brother before he placed the book back into the stack. His brother was not helping the situation, or Sam’s mood for the that matter. 

 

“Not like there is much else to do around here,” he mumbled, only receiving a half-hearted shrug from his brother in reply.

 

Sam looked distastefully down at his dust-covered hand, quickly wiping it away on his jeans. He’s probably going to end up catching some disgusting disease from staying in this place. Never mind that fact that his nose is already burning from all of the dust and dirt in the air.

 

Falling onto the old couch, Sam’s sudden weight caused his brother to fall into the ditch he had created. They were pressed together from shoulder to knee, neither one moving to free themselves from another.

 

It was just another weird, quirky way Dean liked to use to offer Sam some kind of reinsurance. He may be being a smart-arse about Sam getting stuck here but Sam knew his brother wanted him to come along on this hunt as much as Sam did. Dean just wouldn’t admit it out loud. 

 

It seemed like a life time later when Dad finally remerged from the bowels of the house. Joe trailed closely behind him, an unreadable expression on his face - it was something like calculating or cunning coldness, Sam couldn’t quiet put his finger on it. He didn’t like it.

 

From the hard look in his father’s eyes and his tense stance, Sam knew immediately that he was  readying himself to fight with someone - probably over something really trivial. Sam was clueless as to what he had done now, running his mind over the past twenty-four hours and coming up blank.

 

_Here we go._

 

“Dean,” he started, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Go and get your duffle.”

 

_Wait. What?_

 

“Pardon?” Dean spoke Sam’s confusion aloud, surprise contorted his face in a similar manner to that of Sam’s.

 

“You’re staying here with Sam.” 

 

An order, no room for argument. Not that Dean would back chat to Dad anyway - that was more Sam’s deal. 

 

“You’re not coming on the hunt, it’s going to be too dangerous. I’m going to ring up Caleb instead and get him to help me out.”

 

Dad’s sudden change of heart didn’t make sense to Sam. He found himself wondering what Dad and Joe were actually talking about in the kitchen - no doubt Joe had a hand in Dean’s sudden dismissal.

 

Sam turned his focus away from Dad and towards Dean. His brother’s face was a stormy mask of obedience, betrayal, surprise and confusion - all fighting for dominance. In the end, obedience won out, just like it always did when it came to Dad.

 

“Yes sir.”

 

Dean hauled himself up from the couch, a disappointed grimace on his face that he hid from Dad. Sam watched his brother walk by and couldn’t help but feel a small sliver - more like huge - of glee at the news. It sucks for both him and his brother but at least he wasn’t going to be stranded and bored out of his mind with Creeper Joe by himself anymore.

 

“Well, I guess I better be going. It’s a long drive. Thanks again for looking after my boys.”

 

Sam stood up, a dust cloud lingering behind him from where he pushed himself up with his hands. He waited until Dad turned to leave, Joe following behind before he started after them - walking single-file down the small creaky hallway.

 

“It’s no problem, honest,” Joe said to his father’s back, before turning and whispering back at Sam, “My pleasure, actually.”

 

A cold chill ran up Sam’s spine. The words didn’t really mean anything but something about the look in Joe’s hard eyes and the tone of his voice had dread weighing down his stomach. Sam knew he was probably just being stupid, overreacting, but he couldn’t shake the cold feeling currently consuming him.

 

“We’re going to have so much fun!” announced Joe, continuing on the conversation with Dad seamlessly.

 

These next couple of weeks couldn’t go fast enough.

 

* * *

 

Within five minutes, all that was left of Dad was a quickly dissipating cloud of road-dust from the wheels of the Impala. Sam continued to watch the horizon from his place on the porch for a long time, even long after there was no longer a single trace his father. Dean stood quietly beside him.

 

“I’m going to say it again. This sucks,” Sam huffed, “We’re not children anymore. Why does he insist on treating us like babies?”

 

“Sammy,” Dean warned tiredly, his voice soft and rough.

 

Ignoring his brother, Sam continued his rant, “Seriously, he can’t-”

 

“Sam! I get it,” barked Dean, not unkindly but with enough force to get his point through Sam’s stubborn mind. “I rather be anywhere but here too but we aren’t. So I’m going to look at it as a holiday and enjoy myself and I didn’t need you bitching every minute of it.”

 

Chastised, Sam looked away. He knew it wasn’t Dean’s fault, his brother was in the same boat as him after all, but Dad just gets to him some - _most_ \- of the time. Dad just didn’t get it, or he if he did he blatantly ignored it, and really pissed him off. 

 

“I call the bigger room!” Dean suddenly announced, pushing Sam slightly out of the way before striding into the house. All is forgiven and forgotten. Sam felt a smile pull at his lips as he watched his brother walk away. God he loved him.

 

“Like Hell you are!” yelled Sam, rushing to race his brother inside and upstairs.

 

In the end, Dean did end up beating Sam to claim the bigger room. It wasn’t larger in regards to space, both the rooms were tiny and pokey, but it did have the only double bed. Something that Sam wanted. He had just had another growth spurt, easily towering over Dean by a couple of inches. So he needed the extra space to stretch out his long limbs. 

 

Sam huffed as he lowered his duffle bag onto the floor at the end of the bed. The only positive of the situation was that his bed didn’t have a bulky end piece so he can hang with feet over the edge without losing circulation.

 

He looked around the tiny room. Noting that it was pretty bare. It was covered in the same layer of dust as the living room, but judging by the thickness of it on the chest of doors, it has been sitting there for a lot longer. It was almost completely white. Gross.

 

He was going to be spending a lot of time in this room so he was going to have to hunt down a duster and clean up a bit if he didn’t want to get sick from exposure to God knows what that was living under his bed. Sam fully intended to separate himself from Joe as much as possible. He didn’t like the man, he didn’t trust him at all. 

 

Sam knew he could always bring up the issue with his brother but he also knew Dean would probably get annoyed. Dean would think Sam is just whinging and - in his own words - being a little bitch because he didn’t want to be here and he wouldn’t appreciate it. He decided that he would tell his brother if the matter becomes more pressing. Other than that, he would leave Dean alone and let him have a few worry-less weeks.

 

“Still sulking Princess?”

 

“Shut up you Jerk,” Sam shot back on pure reflex as he looked up to see his brother standing in the door way. Dean just laughed when Sam continued to glare at him.

 

“Come on, Joe said dinner’s done. I think it’s chilli - it smells like it anyway. So get a move on, I’m frigging starving!”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Coming,” Sam breathed out, striding through the door, right on Dean’s heels.

 

He had no clue where the kitchen was. The staircase was located in the hallway, right near the front door, and the living room was the first archway on the right, leaving a majority of the house unexplored. Dean seemed to know the way though, or so Sam hoped. He didn’t doubt his brother sense of smell and his uncanny ability to track down food for a second.

 

They weaved their way through the living room, into another, smaller hallway and finally into the kitchen.  Joe was already there, a bowl of chilli in his hands - two more placed down on the large, round table in the centre of the room.

 

“Ah, I was about to go looking for you boys. Eat up while it’s hot,” Joe smiled, taking a seat and immediately stuffing his face with the food.

 

Dean grabbed the nearest seat, leaving Sam to take the place closest place to Joe. Great, off to a good start staying as far away from Joe as possible. As if sensing his discomfort, Joe smiled and winked at Sam as he slowly lowered himself into his seat. Sam shuttered, lowering his head to hide behind his bangs.

 

“Mm, this is so good Joe,” Dean said around a mouthful of chilli before he continued to shovel the food in. Sam was surprised his brother hadn’t already cleaned out the bowl with the rate he was going.

 

“Thank you, it’s an old family recipe.”

 

The chilli was actually quite nice, Sam would admit that. He paced himself though, he wasn’t hungry - quite the opposite actually. He was feeling queasy and didn’t want to push his luck by filling up his stomach.

 

Joe and Dean were talking back and forwards about various hunts and monsters - nothing that interesting. Sam just zoned out, focusing on making it look like he was eating more than he actually was. He didn’t want to draw Dean’s concern upon himself.

 

“Sam, you okay?” Too late.

 

“Yeah, I’m just not that hungry,” he replied, focusing on trying to come off as casual. He even looked up from his bowl to hold eye contact with his brother to push his point. 

 

_See? I’m telling the truth._

 

Dean narrowed his eyes in suspicion, searching Sam’s face for any sign of a lie. Whatever he saw he didn’t believe, Sam could tell from the way his brother’s lips drew in tighter. Dean obviously didn’t think the issue was that pressing because he didn’t say anything else, leaving it alone. Sam did know he would bring it back up later though - he had a few hours to come up with a reasonable lie.

 

“Come on boy, you need to eat up!” Joe suddenly interrupted, his voice way too loud in Sam’s right ear. It almost deafened him, causing him to jerk away. “You need to get some meat on your bones. You’re too skinny.”

 

Sam glared distastefully over at Joe. He didn’t need the creep making any kind of comment about his body. Not like the older hunter could tell how slim Sam was under his layers of baggy hand-me-downs anyway but still. Dean bursted out laughing, obviously finding glee in Sam’s unrest.

 

“No need to get bitchy Sammy. You’re just too much of a Sasquatch,” Dean snorted, his smile way too wide.

 

Sam huffed, shooting an equally loaded glare at his brother from under his bangs before he turned back to his bowl and went back to not-eating. He tuned out Dean and Joe’s voices after they got over their bouts of giggling and started comparing hunting notes again. 

 

Sam kept his attention cast downwards as he played with his food. He noticed Dean’s gaze linger on him every now and then, a worried crease in between his eyebrows, but he chose to not acknowledge it. He still needed to come up with a valid excuse to tell his brother later, so he chose to focus on that instead.

 

* * *

 

Sam huffed as he grabbed the first plate, dipping it in to the bubbly water and scrubbing. Everyone had finished dinner - well, everyone but Sam - and moved into the living to watch TV, agreeing that it was Sam’s turn to clean up. Dean was so going to be in charge of cleaning tomorrow night - like Hell Sam’s going to be in charge of doing all the chores the whole time they were here. 

 

He repeated the numbing, circular motion over and over, like a mindless drone. He slowly made his way to on to tackling the huge stack of pots - half of which looked like they have been sitting in the pile for at least a month. 

 

“How are you going?” asked Joe, suddenly appearing from thin air to stand in Sam’s space. 

 

Sam froze in shock, tensing up. He hadn’t noticed the other man enter the room, let-alone approach him to stand right in his personal space. A shiver wrecked through his body at the lingering feeling of the man’s hot breath against his neck.

 

“Almost done? That’s impressive,” Joe continued, purposefully ignoring Sam’s discomfort and moved in even closer - if that was even physically possible.“I should get John to bring you around here more often. My house would be shining clean. The scenery a lot prettier too.” 

 

Sam jumped, pot clattering into the sink, as Joe put his grubby hand on the crease where his upper thigh met his butt. The older man made a weird huffy-groan noise as he squeezed his hand softly before pulling away and wondering back into the living around.

 

Pushing himself away from the sink, Sam let out a long, shaky breath. His hands trembled as he quickly dried them off and placed away the last pot. 

 

Earlier that day Sam wasn’t one hundred percent sure what the man wanted but his lingering hand had nailed it home. Sam now couldn’t deny the physical and sexual nature of the man’s attention. 

 

He toyed with the idea of confessing up to Dean, spill out his guts and lay out all of his worries to his brother. That thought lasted all of two moments before he decided against it. He was probably just overreacting, reading too much into it, because he really didn’t want to be here. He really didn’t want to hassle Dean over something Sam was probably just making up.

 

He’s a big boy now, he can deal with it himself. He’ll just continue to stay away from the creepy hunter. He closed the cupboard with a final thud before he nervously turned to make his way into the living room. 

 

Sam shot a glance over at his brother as he walked into the living room. Dean looked bored, staring disinterestedly at the small television. Sam probably would be too if he was stuck watching _Antiques Roadshow_. 

 

“I’m beat…” he announced, trailing off with a gesture in the general direction of his bedroom. 

 

Dean narrowed his eyes at him again, worry slowly creeping back on to his face as his eyes pierced into Sam. He didn’t voice his concern though, just mumbled a good night. Sam bets his brother will think it over during the night and decide to finally confront him sometime tomorrow.

 

Sam waited for a moment longer, trying to silently convince Dean that he was fine, before hurrying down the creaky hall and into the safety of his bedroom. After closing the door, Sam let out a long sigh of relief. He can deal with Joe, and all the problems he had created earlier by the sink, tomorrow. 

 

Sam quickly stripped down to his boxers, sliding on loose sweatpants, before burying himself into the mass of blankets on his bed. He laid there for a while, too use to long nights spent studying or hunting to actually fall asleep at eight o’clock.

 

The house eventually fell quiet, the sound of the television no longer existent, and the all the lights flicked off. Sam listened carefully as his brother padded softly down the hall, pausing outside Sam’s bedroom to stick his head in and check that he was okay. Apparently satisfied by Sam’s fake-sleep, he continued on to his own bedroom down the hall.

 

Sam rolled over onto his stomach and promptly drifted off, happy now knowing that his brother was safe asleep in his own bed.

 

* * *

 

It couldn’t have been more than half-an-hour later when Sam was pulled into a semi-conscious state by the sound of his bedroom door clicking closed softly. The hunter in him instantly snapping to full attention at the tiny sound of possible danger. 

 

He jolted fully awake the moment a heavy weight landed on his back. Not knowing what the threat was, he struggled, trying to fight back but also get a look at his opponent - to try and determine which ugly creature it was this time. 

 

Wasn’t Joe’s house meant to be heavily warded? Then again, his old, half-assed attempts probably wouldn’t hold.

 

Sam’s panic rose sharply, heart skipping a beat, when he got a good look at his attacker over his shoulder. Joe. It was Joe. Not some evil creature - well not a supernatural one anyway. He held Sam tight with a disgusting grin plastered on his face, full of the promise of pain and embarrassment.

 

“N-no. No! Ge-Get off!” 

 

Sam tried to push himself up in an attempt to dislodge the other man. He was at the disadvantage, pinned on his stomach like was he. A heavy arm across his shoulder blades held him fast, quickly halting Sam’s escape. He wasn’t going anywhere, anytime soon. 

 

“Get off!”

 

Joe wrapped his meaty hand around Sam’s neck, squeezing just enough to allow only tiny puffs of air through. Sam doubled his effort to dislodge the man but the lack of oxygen quickly made him exhausted. Wheezing pathetically, his body went limp. At Sam’s assumed surrender, Joe extract his hand from around his neck. 

 

Mind still working overtime, trying to find a way out, Sam tried to draw in bigger lungfuls of breath. It was time for another tactic.

 

“Dean,” he called weakly. That pitiful attempt would not have even been heard a metre away, let alone all that way down the hall in Dean’s bedroom. 

 

Sam tried to calm down himself down and drew in a deeper breath. He tried to yell again, “De-“

 

Joe’s huge hand suddenly slammed down on the back of his head, pushing it harshly into the pillow. Sam’s last hope was smothered by the soft fabric.

 

“Be quiet you little bitch!” Joe hissed, fingers screwed tightly into Sam’s hair to maintain his hold. 

 

He pushed Sam’s face even harder into the pillow as his other hand struggled to pull down Sam’s pyjama pants. There was no denying it now. Sam had been right all along. The sexual element of Joe’s attention wasn’t just his imagination. 

 

His panic doubled. Sam kicked his legs wildly, trying anything to stop the inevitable. All it did was earn him a vicious thump to the back of his skull. 

 

“Behave,” snapped Joe as he position himself lower down on Sam’s body, effectively pinning down his legs. 

 

With Sam now immobile, the older hunter managed to rip Sam’s sweat pants the rest of the way down, bunching them up around his calves. His boxers quickly followed.

 

“Mm, I knew you would have a sweet little arse, boy. All tight and perky,” Joe purred, groaning loudly as he spread Sam’s legs apart. 

 

Sam’s legs were held open by Joe’s knees as he dug them into the insides of his thighs. Sam felt his face burn hot as Joe pried his butt cheeks apart. He felt so vulnerable and embarrassed. 

 

If Dean or Dad found out about this they would be so disappointed. Sam knew he should have, should still, fought harder but there was no escape. He tried. He really did. There was no way he was going to be able to tell anyone. Why can’t he just have a normal, easy life?

 

Something old and slippery was squirted down onto his arse crack, followed quickly by a finger running down and stopping at his vulnerable hole. Dread filled. There was no possible way of  denying it now. Joe obviously wasn’t here just to take a look.

 

Wasting no time, Joe shoved one slicked thick finger inside, forcing Sam to grimace in pain. It felt so foreign and it hurt _a lot_. Sam didn’t understand how someone could find this even remotely enjoyable.

 

Joe’s finger remained still for a moment before he begun to thrust it in and out slowly, feeling around and violating Sam’s insides. A second and then third soon followed, the small thrusts becoming more forceful. 

 

It felt far too invasive and Sam wanted to cry, he wanted to disappear and die. He wanted to be anywhere but here. He had to fight back hard against the tears and sweat stinging his eyes, he didn’t want to further humiliate himself by crying like a baby.

 

The fingers pulled out suddenly and Sam was left feeling empty - a very welcome feeling. The relief that flooded him did not last long however. Even though he knew, logically, what came next, Sam remained in a state of denial right up until Joe’s dick slammed the pitiful hope right out of him - along with a pained wail. 

 

“Ah! Stop! Take it out! Take it out!” Sam screamed into the pillow, the muffled sounds mostly muted.  His words were barely audible. “Please!” he begged.

 

It was too big and too much. He couldn’t do this. There was no more room. Joe could not physically push any further inside Sam, his body had no more space to give. There possibly could not be… Joe continued to thrust forward, proving Sam’s panicked thoughts wrong once again.

 

Sam screamed in agony as pain shot up his spine. The older hunter halted, letting out a long groan as he bottomed out. He remained still for a few endless moments and just as the pain began to recede to a more manageable level, he started to thrust in and out brutally.

 

Sam gave into the urge to cry, his sobs flowed freely as tears and spit soaked the pillow under him. It hurt _so much_. It was fire and brimstone, burning him from the inside-out. He could swear he felt small tears open up in his delicate insides. Something warm was trickling freely down his thighs and after a while a metallic smell filled the air. 

 

_Oh God, I’m bleeding._

 

Joe thrusts steadily picked up pace, bashing Sam’s head into the headboard rhythmically. He pounded away until his hips stuttered and he came with a curse. The sensation that came with that was even worse than the initial penetration. Sure, it didn’t hurt as much but it made Sam feel a lot more dirtier and ashamed. He was marked. He would never be normal. Sam sobbed harder.

 

“Thanks for the sweet ride. We might have to make a repeat performance.”

 

The older man pulled out and left with a final pat on Sam’s lower back. Sam whined in pain and humiliation, hands gripping his pillow tightly to his chest.

 

He refused to move for a long time after Joe left. His body shook, fine tremors of pain and grief as the cold of the night slowly chilled him to the bone. By the time he had managed to hone in his emotions, just enough to coherently think, his face felt all gummy and swollen. God knows how much time had passed. 

 

Sam wanted nothing more than to shower, scrub away all of the dirty-bad-wrong sticking to him. Mind made up, he hauled himself out of bed with great effort - rolling to the side in favour of sitting up on his tender arse - and quickly pulled his pants back up around his hips. 

 

He was wobbly on his feet at first, unshed tears still blaring his eyes, but he got the hang of it by the time he managed to shuffle down the hallway. Sam blinked rapidly as he flipped the light switch, the bright light burning his eyes. He purposefully avoided the mirror, stripping completely before stepping into the shower. 

 

The water was scolding hot. It was perfect. Sam lathered up his body for the sixth time, rubbing his skin raw with the bar of soap. Even with his skin red and on the verge of blistering he still felt dirty. He couldn’t get rid of it. He’s tainted and Dean would know the minute he laid eyes on him.

 

Sam managed to work up his courage to slowly run his fingers down his lower back and down in between his butt cheeks. The minute the pads of his fingers glanced over his sore hole he hissed, recoiling in pain. It hurt too much, white hot pain shot up into his spine.

 

Riding out the waves of agony, Sam tried again, he had to know how much damage had been done. His hole felt so strange, it was all puffy and when he drew his fingers away and they were covered in a disgusting pinkish substance. Bile rose in his throat the moment he processed what it was.

 

Fumbling to turn the shower off, Sam nearly slipped and cracked his head as he leapt out of the shower. He slammed himself down and stuck his head in the toilet bowl, the pain radiating from his knees going unnoticed. 

 

Sam had always hated vomiting, it was such an unpleasant feeling - surrendering conscious control to his rebellious body. He always felt as if he was going to choke, that he wouldn’t get enough air and pass out. His harsh sobbing wasn’t helping the cause at the moment either. It just seemed unfair in a moment like this, when he already felt out of control.

 

His vision began to blacken, a trickle of bile dribbling out of his mouth as he retched violently. Nothing but bile was coming up, leaving a foul taste in his mouth and coated his teeth. Another painful heave and not even bile came up, just his empty stomach still trying to murder itself. 

 

Just when he was sure he was going to black out, the heaves thankfully subsided. His stomach was performing some pretty impressive gymnastics though. He just hoped there wouldn’t be a repeat perform anytime soon.

 

Sam was mostly dry by now but he quickly rubbed himself over just to be sure. He redressed himself carefully, trying to not aggravate any injures. Running his fingers through his messy hair, Sam felt a little better.

 

The image in the mirror told of another story however. Sam wished he hadn’t looked. He looked terrible. His eyes were blood shot, tear tracks still evident on his cheeks. The worst, though, was the faint marks blooming around his throat shaped like fingers. It would be thoroughly bruised in the morning - evidence, as clear as day, as to what had happened. How dirty and pathetic Sam really was. He’ll have to find a way to cover them up and divert Dean’s attention.

 

It didn’t take much effort to tear his eyes away from his reflection. He had seen enough. He doesn’t want to look at himself for the next year or so - or ever again.

 

Sam flicked off the light and shuffled along in the dark blindly, back to the scene of his nightmares. He climbed into bed and pulled the sheets tightly around himself, completely buried except for his face. 

 

It offered a false sense of security, like nothing could harm him if he was hidden. He knew, logically, that it was a load of bullshit - he has been fighting monsters all his life and they don’t give a rat’s arse about blanket barriers - but he relished the comfort they brought. 

 

After some shifting around, he discovered that curled up on his side was a lot more comfortable  - and painless - than on his back. Drawing his knees up to his chest, he screwed his eyes shut and waited for sleep to take him away, into blissful unconsciousness.

 

* * *

 

The morning came way too soon if you asked Sam. Bright light filtered in through the blinds and the birds chirped happily in the tree outside. It was like last night never happened but the burning pain in his arse told another story. 

 

Still half asleep, Sam was happy to remain where he was - maybe even go back to sleep - for another hour or so. He was comfy and relatively pain-free at the moment. Moving would most certainly bring it all crashing back.

 

He knew better than to hope though. Dean’s footsteps could be heard stopping just outside his door before his brother knocked quietly.

 

“You okay, Sammy? It’s nine-thirty, it isn’t like you to sleep this long,” Dean questioned quietly as he let himself Sam’s bedroom, closing the door softly behind him. 

 

Sam kept his eyes closed in the hope that Dean would think he is still asleep. He listened carefully to his brother’s soft footfalls as he threaded closer. Obviously, his act wasn’t working - it never did with Dean. 

 

Dean seated himself in the tiny space left behind Sam’s curled up legs, like the spot was made just for him. Sam felt a careful hand brush his hair out of the way before it was pressed against his forehead.

 

“Are you sick?” 

 

Sam cracked his eyes open to look at his brother. Dean looked concerned, in full-out mother-hen mode. Great, there was no way he could pass this off any just nothing. Dean was like a dog with a bone when it came to Sam being unwell.

 

“I think I might have the flu or something. My body is aching and I feel really tired,” Sam mumbled. At least the last part wasn’t a complete lie. Dean didn’t need to know the truth about the reason behind it though.

 

“Damn. C’mon let’s get you something to eat, then we can see what’s wrong.”

 

Dean smiled brightly down at him, so full of unconditional love, and Sam nearly caved right then. He nearly spilled everything. 

 

He returned the smile and just hoped Dean wouldn’t see it shake as he fought back tears. Dean didn’t buy it, Sam could tell from the way his forehead creased further. He didn’t, however, press the matter, most likely blaming Sam’s apparent undiagnosed sickness.

 

“Dude, your room reeks,” Dean suddenly announced, moving to stand up. “Were you whacking off in here all night or what?”

 

Sam swallowed, eyes widening in shock. Dean meant it harmlessly but Sam couldn’t override the nauseating feeling consuming his body. It was way too close to the mark. Dean laughed, obviously finding something about Sam’s inner turmoil hilarious. 

 

“Wow Sammy boy, try not to look too guilty.”

 

Dean didn’t know. He couldn’t possibly. It would be the last thing on Sam’s mind if the roles were reverse. He honestly thought Sam’s shock was from being caught out. Sam wasn’t going to correct his brother, he would gladly take this humiliation over his brother finding out the truth. 

 

“Shut up, Jerk,” Sam shot back, playing along. 

 

Dean laughed again, the rich sound bouncing off the walls of the hallway. His mood was contagious. Sam found himself smiling along at his brother’s joy, not having to force it this time. It almost enough to dull down the sharp pain shooting up his spine from his arse with every shaky step he took as he followed after his brother. _Almost_.

 

“Morning boys!” Joe greeted cheerfully the moment Sam and Dean walked through the kitchen door. The sickening fake joy was so glaringly obvious to Sam but Dean ate it up. 

 

“Morning Joe,” Dean beamed back, laughter still evident in his voice.

 

Joe looked up and down Sam’s body slowly, giving an approving nod with a lewd smirk on his face. Sam’s stomach immediately started to do the same impressive acrobatics from earlier this morning. 

 

He glanced over at Dean, hoping that his brother didn’t see the exchange. Sam was thankfully greeted with the sight of his brother’s back, hunched over as he helped himself to the bacon and eggs waiting on the kitchen bench.

 

Sam made his way over to this brother, making sure to walk a wide arc around Joe, and begun to pick at the food, putting minimal on his plate. He had no appetite at all and the thought of swallowing the greasy bacon was already making bile rise into his throat. He tried desperately to control his stomach, breathing hard through his nose. He had to play the part, act normal and he could make it through the day. 

 

“I was thinking that we could all do some work out on the farm today,” suggested Joe, sipping at his hot cup of coffee, “The southern fence needs to be repaired.”

 

“We would love to help out but Sammy boy here’s got the flu,” said Dean, plonking himself down at the table with his heaped plate. 

 

“Really? What a shame. ”

 

Sam tactfully chose to seat himself so that Dean was in between him and the older hunter this time. He kept his head lowered, body leaning towards his brother in a semi-conscious move to seek reinsurance and safety.

 

Breakfast flew past surprisingly quickly and trouble free. Joe kept to himself, allowing Sam to relax - not fully, just a little bit - for a few minutes as he pushed his food around his plate. Dean managed to demolish his plate and go for seconds all in the space of five minutes, sitting back with a content sigh once he was done.

 

“Go get Sam settled on the couch and then we can go and do the fences. There’s no reason that we can’t smash it out one man down,” suggested Joe helpfully, a dark, scheming look in his eyes. 

 

Sam’s blood froze at the words. He was going to be left alone all day. No. That couldn’t happen. He didn’t want to be left with Joe and the idea of Dean being alone with him too made his stomach flip painfully.

 

“Sure.”

 

He had to swallow hard against the bile rising in his throat. Breathing hard, Sam kept his head down so that no one could see him panicking. His stomach cramped again, this time, way too much and bile suddenly flooded his mouth.

 

Sam jumped up from the table and sprinted down the hall, ignoring Dean’s worried calls. He had no idea where the nearest bathroom was, he was just hoping it was in the general direction of where he was running. 

 

He thanked his lucky stars as he passed a small toilet room. He had no time to close the door behind him as his body wrenched with another spasm and he started heaving. Vomit splashed into the bowl, the sound making him feel even more sick.

 

His throat was burning and tears flowed freely from his tightly screwed shut eyes. The overwhelming urge to sob suddenly became too much to bare. He was in so much pain. His arse was burning from the abuse the current position was causing and his insides felt queazy and rotten.

 

“Sammy?”

 

_No. Go away. Not now, you can’t see me like this._

 

“Hey,” spoke Dean softly, his warm arm coming to rest over his shoulders, “Are you alright?”

 

No, he wasn’t. He was so far from it that all he could do was shake his head and cry harder. He’s so pathetic. His brother pulled him in tighter, his chin resting on Sam’s head as he buried it deeper in to Dean’s chest.

 

“Shh, it’s okay. Come on, let’s get you settled and you’ll feel better.”  
  
Sam let Dean pull him up from the floor and before he knew it he was lying down on the dusty couch, choking on the obscene amount of dust particles that he launched in the air. His brother was in his mother-hen mode again. Worried knitted his brow but his eyes were soft and sympathetic as he wrapped Sam up in - what he hoped was -  a clean blanket. Sam endured another temperature check, which only served to further worry his brother. 

 

“Weird,” he mumbled, “You look like shit but you’re not burning up. ‘Some weird flu you got there little brother.”

 

Sam just huffed and snuggled further into the couch. He couldn’t wait for the day to be over. It was only nine-thirty and he was exhausted. Dean checked his forehead again before he slowly stood up, moving the coffee table closer to Sam’s reach. Dean disappeared momentarily to get a glass of water, setting it down carefully. He also moved the remote closer.

 

Sam watched his brother hesitate for a moment, his eyes stormy and conflicted. He had no idea what was going through Dean’s head at the moment but if a weird flu was causing him so much grief then Sam was glad he hasn’t told him the whole truth. That would surely tear apart both of them.

 

“Dean?” Joe’s loud voice called from the bowels of the house, “Are you ready to go?”

 

Right. Dean was going to leaving him. Couldn’t the older hunter just leave them alone for a while? They were going to be here for God knows how long - that thought made Sam’s stomach cramp in fear weakly - the fences could wait.

 

“Just a moment, I’ll be right out.”

 

Before Dean could even reason with Sam, he plead, “Please, don’t go. Stay”

 

“Sam,” his brother drawled, he looked so tired all of a sudden, “I have to. You will be alright. I can’t do much for you at the moment anyway. Just get some rest, you’ll feel better.”

 

And with that Dean tore himself away from Sam’s begging eyes and left the room. Sam felt betrayed, he wasn’t asking too much of his brother. He felt tears prick at his already swollen eyes, he didn’t even try to fight them this time. 

 

He cried silently to himself until he had no more tears to give. He must look like such a mess right now but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Slowly, he reached out for the remote on the table. His fingers grazed it, pulling it closer. The old television hummed to life, an old rerun of Friends playing. 

 

Sam settled himself into the couch, focusing all of his attention on the mind-numbing images flashing on screen.

 

* * *

 

The loud sound of footsteps was what startled him awake many hours later. It was dark now. He remembers the sun beginning to fade while he was watching the afternoon news and then nothing. He had no idea how long he had been sleeping or how late it really was.

 

It took a moment for his sleep fogged brain to kickstart back up. When it did though, he jumped in surprise - body immediately tensing in fear. Joe stood in the doorway, a cruel smirk contorting his ugly face. 

 

“Didn’t mean to wake you Sleeping Beauty,” he drawled as he stepped further into the room.

 

Sam looked around frantically for his brother. If the older hunter was back then Dean would be too. He didn’t see him though. Frightened, Sam swung his gaze back to the looming man now standing in front of the couch. 

 

The older hunter reached out and ran a hand down Sam’s face, cooing softly. Sam couldn’t help but whimper and cower away. He had to get away but he was boxed in. There was nowhere to go. 

 

Joe groaned in the back of his throat, rubbing his fingers over Sam’s lips. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes - he did know how he had any left to shed. It just wasn’t fair. Couldn’t he ever catch a break?

 

“What are you doing?”

 

Sam nearly cried in relief at the sound of Dean’s voice. His brother always did have good timing. It probably had something to do with his weird Sammy Senses tingling or something, always knowing when Sam was distressed or in trouble.

 

“Nothing, just checking his temperature. He’s burning up,” Joe lied easily, stepping back to face Dean. 

 

Sam kept his eyes trained on his brother, not wanting to look at the disgusting monster standing in front of him. If he did, he thinks he might end up going over the slippery edge and have the full-fledged panic attack that was currently clawing at his psyche.

 

Dean narrowed his eyes in suspicion, something he seemed to be doing a lot of today, and then smiled tightly. The older hunter, patted his brother on the arm, returning the smile despite the obvious tension that charged the air. Both brothers watched the other man leave the room, heading towards the kitchen, in silence.

 

Dean didn’t believe Joe. His shoulders were hunched in a defensive position but his eyes were blazing with fury. Obviously fence mending wasn’t a great activity for friendship building. Sam just hoped Joe hadn’t tried anything with his brother, he couldn’t think of anything worse.

 

Dean made his way to the foot of the couch, seating himself heavily on Sam’s legs. He thudded a warm hand on his thigh. The heat helped to ground Sam.

 

“How was your day? Boring? I bet,” Dean said, only really having to look at Sam to know his  response. It was a good thing too, Sam didn’t think he was calm enough to be able to talk properly yet. “I dug holes and moved heavy posts all day, friggin’ sucked.”

 

His brother continued to babble on about anything and everything, essentially having a one-sided conversation. He eventually ran out of topics to idling chatter about though, instead opting to fill the silence with the late night news bulletin.

 

He didn’t know how long they stay tangled up together, staring at the images flashing on the small screen, but it was long enough for Sam to fully calm down and his eyes to start drooping with sleep. He wanted to stay here forever but of course nothing ever went his way. It was at that exact moment that Joe’s voice echoed from the kitchen.

 

“Boys! Dinner!”

 

Sam groaned, snuggling further into the blanket and the couch. He didn’t want to move. Dean laughed, obviously amused at Sam’s reaction. He patted Sam’s thigh again before Sam felt his weight suddenly lift up from his legs.

 

“Come on Sammy. Let’s get dinner, then it’s bed time. I’m beat.”

 

Sam grunted discontentedly but reluctantly extracted himself from his warm cocoon. He glared at Dean’s amused smile, trying to look at least somewhat threatening in his probably severely rumpled state. His brother’s laugh proved his thought was right. He didn’t try to do it again when Dean playfully messed with his hair, he knew it would be a wasted effort.

 

He really didn’t want to eat dinner, he wasn’t hungry and he _really_ didn’t want to be stuck in the same room as Joe. He knew that Dean wouldn’t let him skip it though so he trailed along behind his brother. At least after dinner he could go and hide in his bed.

 

* * *

 

The clock announced the time as two in the morning with the sound of the numbers flapping down into place. Sam still laid wide awake, terrified. Joe had not come in yet. Hopefully that meant he was not coming at all. 

 

All he wanted was Dean. He knew it made him sound like he was baby but that’s all he could think about. Dean always made his problems go away. He really should just tell his brother, face the humiliation.

 

He stared hard up at the ceiling, like it would suddenly reveal all the answers to his problems. It didn’t but it did help Sam decide. He’ll go to his brother’s room, claim he is feeling even worse and that it is really cold. He can insist on sleeping in the bed with Dean to keep warm - kept safe. Yes, it was a plan.

 

Slowly, Sam rolled over, swinging his legs over the edge of his bed before lifting himself up. He stepped carefully down the hallway, artfully missing any squeaky floorboards. The last thing he wanted to do was wake up Joe and bring his unwanted attention down on him.

 

He stumbled to a halt in the ajar doorway to Dean’s room, eyes widened in shock and surprise. There, right in front of him, Sam’s nightmare was repeating itself, only it was _so_ much worse.

 

_Dean! Oh my God!_

 

His brother was pinned to the bed, hands struggling uselessly where they were bound to the headboard. Joe’s larger - and very naked - body obscured most of Sam’s view of Dean but there was no denying what he was seeing. His blood turned ice cold, flooding his whole system with fear and dread.

 

Joe had one fat hand on Dean’s bare hip and the other in his short hair. Dean’s head was tugged back sharply, his back contorted in a obscene bow. It looked painful and presented a nauseating image that Sam could just not relate to being his strong, brave, big brother.

 

“Dean!” Sam screamed as his fight response finally kicked in. He rushed forward, hands shoving at Joe hard. “Get off!” He grunted, giving another hard push, “Get off of him!”

 

Sam managed to land a hurried punch across the older man’s cheekbone but he didn’t get the satisfying crunch of breaking bone he had hoped for. He wildly went to go for another - rage and desperation clouding over his training - only for it to be blocked and swallowed by a meaty hand. 

 

Joe used the opportunity to land a strike of his own. The thud of knuckles against his jaw snapped Sam’s head viciously to the side. He stood there stunned for a second, dazed from the blow, before he could even began to prepare to attack again. 

 

Sam started to move his arm to land a - hopefully - powerful right hook, only to be stopped when Joe’s greasy head smashed into his face. White hot pain exploded through his skull ,radiating from his nose. Red blood gushed down his face. 

 

He fell back with a loud cry and crumpled to the floor, a hand caressed to his nose. His prone position now left him boxed in by the wall, vulnerable to Joe’s murderous stare.

 

“Stay down you stupid little bitch,” he spat out viciously, his eyes pinning Sam to the spot.

 

Sam whimpered and cowered further back into the wall. If looks could kill, he would surely combust on the spot. The older hunter held his stare for a moment longer before he turned his attention away and begun to begin pounding into his brother again.

 

Dean let out a pitiful sob, snapping Sam’s attention back to reality. His brother had buried his face into the pillow. Sam guessed it was probably to hide his humiliation from him. 

 

Rage suddenly overcame Sam, adrenaline driving him up and blindly forwards. His body crashed hard into Joe’s body. He had a moment of triumph at his successful crash tackle before he landed head first on the other side of the bed, Joe’s weight slamming him down harder. 

 

“Urgh, you pathetic freak!” Joe shrieked, blood running from the side of his head where he must have landed on the wooden floor. He spat a hunk of blood-soaked spit at Sam, missing his face but  hitting his shoulder with a grotesque spat. 

 

Sam scrambled to get back to his feet, falling down twice before in his mad dash. He was seeing double - _triple_ \- and squinted hard against the dizziness. Joe was sneering at him and if Sam could actually make out the other hunter’s face properly it would probably be terrifying. Thank God he couldn’t.

 

He threw a sloppy punch in the general direction of Joe but it was weak and way off aim, just skimming off the other man’s chin. Before he could regain his composure, Joe shoved Sam in the chest. Hard. He had no hope to not going down.

 

Crashing to the ground again in a heap of arms and legs, Sam grunted as the wind was knocked out of him. He was losing. He knew it. His head was swimming and his body ached in time with his heartbeat. There was no way he was going to last against the other hunter.

 

Joe stepped forwards, looming over Sam’s prone form. He knew this was it. Joe lifted his leg, his huge foot flying in his direction. Sam screwed his eyes, bracing himself for the pain. He just hoped Dean would be okay for the time he was out.

 

It never came. He waited and waited. Eventually he decided that it wasn’t just time slowing down but Joe had actually missed. Peeking through his eyelashes carefully, Sam stared at the empty space in front of him, shocked. 

 

_Wha?_

 

He looked around, searching frantically for the older man. He couldn’t let Joe get the jump on him. He won’t be blessed with such another lucky chance anytime soon. Sam found the man slumped on the floor to his left. There was blood dribbling sluggishly from his temple, a splatter on the bedside table.

 

_What the Hell?_

 

Sam blinked dumbly at the scene for _way_ too long. He just couldn’t process it. The only explanation he could conjure up was that Joe must have lost his balance and fallen. 

 

Suddenly there was movement to the right, causing Sam to jump a mile high. His heart was thundering and his shoulders were tense as he swung his gaze around to the silent attacker. His breath caught in his throat and the sight of Dean weakly grinning at him didn’t help to relieve him either.

 

His brother was in bad shape. His lip was swollen and cracked and blood seeped from a small cut along his hairline. It was the colourful bruising though that made it look like a scene from a horror movie. Sure, he’s seen Dean banged up more times than he would care to count, but knowing what had actually happened to cause Dean the damage made it a hundred times worse.

 

Then it clicked. The light bulb practically flicked on above his head. Dean. Dean kicked Joe over using his feet. They weren’t tied down like his hands and the older hunter must have been standing close enough to the bed to be within the range of his brother’s kick. 

 

They have always worked best as a team. No one would ever about able win against the both of them.

 

“Sammy,” croaked Dean, his voice was wrecked. It sounded like broken glass in a blender. “Sam, untie me.”

 

“Right,” he mumbled, snapping back to the present. They had to get out of there before Joe woke up. “Sorry.”

 

Sam crawled over to the side of the bed, no way would he be able to stand unassisted at the moment - he’s surprise he is even conscious at the moment really. The knots weren’t that hard to undo, he had to fiddle around and tug a bit, but he’s seen better.

 

The minute Dean was free, he pulled up his boxers and fumbled around for his clothes. He avoided looking at Sam and Sam totally got it. He bets his brother probably just wants to hide in his bed for the next year. He’s wanting to do the same thing too. 

 

How can this all go so wrong? It went from bad to worse. 

 

Sam wiped angrily at his tears. This was all his fault. He should have manned up and told Dean, that way Dean would have been more cautious and this never would have happened to his brother. He’s so selfish. Dean’s going to hate him.

 

“Go grab your stuff.”

 

An order. It sounded so much like Dad, a lot weaker and shaky with tears, but hard and demanding nonetheless. He could follow that.

 

“Okay.”

 

He raced down the hallway and grabbed his duffle off of the floor. He didn’t have to pack anything. He didn’t take out anything yesterday, besides his pyjamas - which he was wearing - and the clothes from earlier that he had repacked. He hated this place, no way was he going to even try to make it homely.

 

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Sam wiped away the rest of his tears. He threw on a plaid flannelette over his tee, not caring that it didn’t match his sweatpants, and swung his bag over his shoulder. With a final sigh, he turned his back on the place where his nightmares had played out.

 

Sam almost crashed into his brother as he stepped out the door, too busy looking at his feet to notice Dean powering through in the opposite direction.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

At Dean’s whispered question, Sam looked up. His brother looked terrible. Aside from the physical injuries, his eyes were red rimmed and filled with unshed tears. Of course he cared about Sam’s welfare over his own. He always had. There was no reason to lie now. 

 

“No.”

 

“Did-“ Dean breathed out, words getting caught up in his emotions and denial, “Did he?”

 

Dean actually looked at him hopefully and Sam did contemplate lying, just for his brother’s sanity, but that wasn’t going to help anyone. He nodded in affirmation and tears begun to fall freely from Dean’s eyes. Sam smiled watery at him, trying to reinsure him, his own face wet with tears.

 

Sam let out a soft sob, reaching forward for his brother. They crashed into each other. A hug so tight no one, not even God, could pry them apart. He buried his face in Dean’s shoulder, finally allowing himself to cry - hard - just like he has wanted to for the past twenty-four hours. The shaking of his brother’s body told him that he was doing the same. 

 

It was so surreal, he has never seen Dean so overcome with emotion. He was always hard and collected - he didn’t want to appear weak in Dad’s eyes. His stomach dropped at how wrecked his brother was. They both were so broken.

 

A grunt and shuffle sounded down the hall causing both brothers to tense up. Joe. How could he forget? Sam pulled back from Dean, staring scared down the hall.

 

_No._

 

They waited, seconds thinking away slowly. There was another small shuffle but then silence resumed. 

 

_Thank God._

 

“Come on, let’s go,” said Dean, turning to walk down the hallway, Sam hot on his heels. 

 

* * *

 

 

Sam only felt safe once he sat down in the bus seat next to his brother. He was boxed in by the window and the warmth of Dean’s body. He couldn’t think any other place he would rather be at the moment.

 

He slumped into the surprisingly comfy chair, his heart still racing from the fast walk to the Greyhound station. Dean kept moving around, his shoulder bumping into him with every moment. A glance at his brother’s pained features, told Sam everything he needed to know. He had struggled to find a way to sit at first without causing his abused arsehole to flare up and bring tears to his eyes. Dean shifted to his side, leaning further towards Sam, before he settled down. 

 

The old bus roared to life, jumping forwards with a start. Sam exhaled a lengthy breath. They were free. No way would Joe be able to get them now. 

 

The bus rolled onwards, entering onto the freeway, flying along at high speed. In another five hours they would be back with Dad - they would be safe. Dean had decided that they should tell their father exactly what had happened. Sam had tried to protest, not wanting to make the humiliation worse, but his brother insisted that they couldn’t hide it from Dad forever. Plus, Sam knew Dad would want revenge and that thought finally persuaded him - he was looking forward to his father putting the creepy old hunter in his place.

 

He watched out the window for a while. There was nothing really to look at, just a car’s headlights piercing through the night every now and then. He waited until the first sliver of light appeared on the horizon before he decided he needed to change position. His right leg was going numb.

 

Now leaning closer to Dean, their bodies pressed tightly together, Sam yawned and rested his head on his brother. Dean responded by wrapping himself around him, their shared body heat comforting.

 

He knew they were both battered and that it was going to take a long time for the scarring to fade - if it ever did completely - but he knew for certain that as long as he had his brother he was going to be okay. 

 

The gentle rocking motion of the bus reminded Sam so much of long night in the Impala that his eyes quickly grew heavily. As he felt sleep pulling at his consciousness, he could feel Dean relaxing into sleep also. Both brothers snuggled in closer and drifted off to sleep.

 

 


End file.
